


The Angels Don't Fly Down Here, Prove Yourself and RISE

by VariantLoki



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale finally snaps, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Blood and Violence, But I don't care because it was fun to write, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Gabriel is not nice, Hellfire plays a role here, I accept criticism in the form of screaming, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Blood, Michael/Beelzebub if you really squint, Mutual Pining, Other, Playing fast and loose with how Angelic and Demonic magic works, Second Kiss, Some of this is probably OOC, Sword Fighting, a lot of kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 23:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VariantLoki/pseuds/VariantLoki
Summary: A rush of all different emotions flooded into Aziraphale’s head, swirling together violently like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. He sank to the floor, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists together so much that his nails were digging into his palms. His body started to shake, and he could feel the tears beginning to form. He sat there like that for who knows how long, trembling in what he could only assume was a panic attack. Emotions continued to clash within him. Fear, Despair, Guilt, Pain, and countless other extremes all fought inside his mind until one came out victorious in their war and took over.Rage.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Leo and Jodi, if you're reading this, you're not allowed to read this fic until you ACTUALLY WATCH THE SHOW.)





	The Angels Don't Fly Down Here, Prove Yourself and RISE

**Author's Note:**

> The Title is a combination of the song "Out of Hell" By Skillet, and the League of Legends song "Rise."  
> I spent 20 minutes listening to multiple other songs and this was still the best I could come up with. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I haven't written a whole fic in like, 3 years, and this was my first attempt at something in the Good Omens Fandom. Can I get a Wahoo?

Aziraphale hadn’t seen or heard from Crowley in what seemed like forever but was in fact only four days. That wouldn’t seem like much at all since the two would regularly go years or even decades without seeing each other, but after they thwarted Armageddon, they were meeting up every day since, either at the bookshop or at Crowley’s place. It was no major secret that over the thousands of years they spent on earth they had become close friends, as much as they both would tell themselves that they weren’t. Of course, for both of them their feelings progressed past friendship into more adoration and attachment. It was a secret, however, exactly how much those feelings had grown. At the time, they kept it to themselves because Heaven and Hell were watching, looming over them, always vigilant. They each knew that their friendship itself was dangerous, let alone a romantic relationship. 

So, Aziraphale never told Crowley. Crowley never told Aziraphale. 

After Armageddon, and after they pulled off probably the greatest magic trick this side of the galaxy with the body swap, fooling and terrifying their respective bosses into leaving them alone, they were free. Free from the ever-watching eyes. Free from pretending to be enemies. Finally, free to just be themselves.

And with this newfound freedom, countless opportunities opened their doors. 

Most importantly, the opportunity to finally tell each other how they felt; how they have always felt throughout the many millennia. Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley, desperately so. He fully intended to when the right moment presented itself, but whenever he would try to get the words to come out, he always changed his mind at the last second. Crowley wanted to confess to Aziraphale, so much so that it felt like torture being with the Angel and never being able to form anything resembling a coherent sentence. Every time he would make an attempt to bring the topic to light, all that came out of his mouth was word vomit and the verbal representation of keysmash.

So, they continued to dance around each other, constantly edging right outside of the subject, both trying to tip the scales in their favor and find the courage to say something. Anything. Anything at all. But they both realized that perhaps words were not their strong suit. Aziraphale was subtle in his actions; longing glances, casual touches to the demon’s arm or back or shoulder, a playful ruffling of hair, lingering hands when handing over a cup of tea or a glass of wine. Crowley was equally as subtle; Increased use of terms of endearment – he had always called Aziraphale 'Angel', but he started to occasionally substitute it for words like ‘Dear’ or ‘Darling’ – Little acts of service like picking up their glasses when they were done drinking, helping to reorganize the shelves of books, pulling out his Angel’s chair when they went to a new fancy restaurant. They both were just waiting for the moment that the other would recognize what was going on; for when their other half would take the hint and see just how much they truly cared. Then perhaps saying those three words would be easier. 

Needless to say, not hearing from his dearest demon in those four days had Aziraphale worried. He decided to give Crowley a call just to check on him. Picking up the phone on his desk, he circled it around to dial Crowley’s number. He heard it ring three times on the other end, and eventually go to the voicemail box. 

“Hm. Strange.” Aziraphale said to himself, placing the phone back onto the receiver. He was definitely worried now. Crowley always had his phone with him and would always answer when Aziraphale called. Of course, he could be busy or sleeping, but something told him that this wasn’t the case. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. He stood up, quickly grabbing his jacket and heading out the door of the bookshop, snapping his fingers to close the door and lock it behind him.

When he arrived at Crowley’s place, he saw the Bentley sitting outside, which should have eased him mind, but it didn’t. Making his way inside, Aziraphale was met with Crowley’s front door not only being wide open but being smashed in and hanging off the hinges. 

“Crowley?” He called as he walked in, “Are you here?” As he walked through the flat it became clear that someone else had been here. And there had been a struggle. The interesting statue was toppled over and broken into pieces, objects that were normal neatly placed on shelves were scattered carelessly across the floors, the plants that Crowley meticulously cared for were battered, knocked over and trampled. “Oh no…”

Aziraphale ventured farther, coming to Crowley’s bedroom, half hoping to find the demon laying in bed and just slept through a robbery. Of course, this wasn’t the case. Aziraphale stood there trying to figure out what happened. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small flash of light. Looking over at the nightstand next to the bed, he found Crowley’s phone. He picked it up, watching it turn itself off due to low battery.

That’s when he saw it and his eyes went wide. There on the nightstand hidden underneath the phone, was a note; a small piece of paper, torn on all the edges, written on in jagged handwriting.

“We’re not done with you. If you want your boyfriend back, you know where to find us.”

A rush of all different emotions flooded into Aziraphale’s head, swirling together violently like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. He sank to the floor, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists together so much that his nails were digging into his palms. His body started to shake, and he could feel the tears beginning to form. He sat there like that for who knows how long, trembling in what he could only assume was a panic attack. Emotions continued to clash within him. Fear, Despair, Guilt, Pain, and countless other extremes all fought inside his mind until one came out victorious in their war and took over.

Rage.

He took a deep breath in and opened his eyes, the expression on his face shifting, while one single tear ran down his cheek. He stood up and without a second thought, snapped his fingers, making his flaming sword materialize in his other hand, clutching the handle so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. He didn’t care if he was wasting miracles. Emotions running rampant, he made his way out of the building and into the eye of the storm that he knew was coming.

* * *

It wasn’t a difficult deduction to make that it had been Hell that had kidnapped Crowley. The question was why? Why was this happening? Why had Hell come for him? The whole point of the body swap was to stop Heaven and Hell from coming for them; so that they could finally just be left alone. He thought that the plan had went off without a hitch. He spent so much time making sure that he replicated Crowley’s behaviors and speech patterns as closely as possible, and he knew that Crowley had put forth his best effort too. Something must have gone wrong, and Aziraphale was quick to put the blame on himself. Something about the way he acted or the way he spoke must have set off suspicions in the demons and that had to be why they had come for Crowley again.

Of course, Aziraphale had been to Hell during his time disguised as Crowley, so he knew how to get there. It was true that Hells' adversaries had knocked him out when they came for him, but he regained at least half consciousness just before they made the descent down the escalator. After the escalator there wasn’t anything terrifying or unsettling about the way down there like Aziraphale had expected, other than the old, rickety elevator that went down the rest of the way which felt like it could easily come crashing down at a moment’s notice.

Making his way to the gateway building, he briefly glanced at Heaven’s escalator. A fleeting thought told him that Heaven was obviously going to find out about what he was doing. It was inevitable really. And as much as Aziraphale knew this, he couldn’t bring himself to even care. After everything that had happened, he was tired of being under Heaven’s control. 

All he cared about was finding Crowley.

He continued forward, down the escalator and elevator. At the bottom, he emerged into first corridor. Hell was very much unlike Heaven. Heaven was wide open with a lot of vast empty space between areas whereas Hell was more like a labyrinth; a maze of long hallways and interconnecting paths that lead in all different directions and then circled back in on themselves making the whole place damn near impossible to navigate if you didn’t know your way around. In the short time Aziraphale was here as Crowley he subconsciously took mental notes of the surroundings as he was led through. He had a number of similar unconscious habits, like unknowingly counting the number of steps in a stairway or running his hand along a wall and making a note of any dents or other imperfections in it. By no means was it anything like having a photographic memory, but these little habits that he was only half-conscious of most of the time were a great help for him as he made his way down the passages. He followed specific identifying marks on the walls and unique patterns in the rocky ground to eventually come to the same room that held Crowley’s trial.

He had a hunch that this all seemed far too easy and that intuition proved to be correct. As soon as he entered the trial room, Aziraphale was met with two demons. Or, what he assumed were demons. Appearance wise they looked just like angels, from their clothing, to the gold speckling on their skin. Aziraphale knew that demons could change their physical form at will so this wasn’t surprising to him. They probably expected that this would make him let his guard down.

It took no time for the two demons to advance on him, wordlessly summoning weapons for themselves as they bounded towards him. Demon one had two golden daggers. Demon two had an electrified Rapier. Aziraphale drew back into a defensive stance, blocking demon two’s rapier with his sword. Demon one came at him with the daggers. Aziraphale dodged the attack just narrowly, but the blades tore into his jacket, catching on the fabric and trapping him. With a quick spinning motion, Aziraphale pushed Demon two’s Rapier away while also slipping one arm free from his jacket.

“Oh, come on, this one was actually new.”

He let the now ruined garment fall to the floor. He kept moving back, keeping a distance between himself and his attackers. Aziraphale had practiced sword fighting during Medieval times – and admittedly was quite good at it - but preferred to be more defensive in his approach. Their struggle continued. The demons were relentless in their attacks. Slashes of swords and jabs of daggers flew, weapons clanged together, the demon with the rapier managed hit Aziraphale, the jolt of electricity from the weapon making him stumble. The demon with the daggers then charged at him. It all happened so fast that Aziraphale wasn’t able to dodge this time. He held one hand up in front of his face causing one of the blades to slice through the skin and leave a nasty cut. The other dagger ended up cutting him on the side of his head, right along his hairline. 

Aziraphale flinched and grabbed his head reflexively, letting out a pained cry. He didn’t have any time to fully react to his injury as his attackers didn’t let up. He kept blocking the rapier, but quickly realized that his defensive maneuvers were only going to last so long. He had to fight back. An opportunity opened, and he brought his sword down on the rapier, snapping it in half. With one of the weapons taken out of the equation the fight was on slightly more equal ground, but it was still a two on one. The demon with the daggers knocked the sword out of Aziraphale’s hands, kicking it far out of his reach. He made a frantic move towards the sword, but the demon knocked him onto the ground. He reached for the sword but came up short as the demon then had their foot on his back. 

To Aziraphale’s astonishment, the sword floated across the ground and brought itself back to his hand. He didn’t have any time to think about how that just happened. He rolled his way out of the demons hold and got back to his feet.

An idea sparked; Aziraphale slid his foot under the jacket on the ground and kicked it up in the air and onto the demon’s heads. This momentarily blinded them and Aziraphale used this moment to get behind them and try to knock them off their feet. The demons countered though and jumped apart at the last second, causing the Angel to run passed them and into the corner of the room. They had him trapped. In a desperate, last ditch attempt to regain the upper hand, he slashed the sword at the two demons, the weapon connecting and cutting across both their chests. Aziraphale expected this to stagger his attackers and allow for him to get around them. 

What he didn’t expect was for the two demons to stop dead in their tracks and moments later quickly burn away into piles of blackened ash at his feet. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide at what he had just witnessed. There was a lot that he still didn’t know about demons, but one thing he knew for sure was that they didn’t burn. 

These weren’t demons in disguise. These were angels. 

And he had just killed them. But how was that possible? The only thing that could actually kill an angel was -

“Hellfire.” He said to himself, holding the sword out in front of him and staring at it, watching the flames move around the blade erratically. Aziraphale stood there confused for such a length of time that his head started to spin. He didn’t know what to do with this information. He didn’t even know how this was possible. Surely if his sword was made of hellfire it would have…

His action came before he knew he was thinking about it. Aziraphale raised his other hand and grabbed the blade of the sword. The voice in his head screamed at him not to, lest he accidentally burned himself alive all out of curiosity. However, that voice promptly shut up when his hand didn’t spontaneously combust when coming in contact with the fire. Pulling his hand away, Aziraphale watched a few residual embers float around in his palm before they seemingly sank into his skin, leaving behind a warm feeling and creating glowing markings for a few seconds.

He was suddenly made very aware of the large cut on his hand again and the amount of blood that was coming from it. The handle of his sword was painted red, and the blood was slowly creeping its way down his fingers, a few drops dripping and leaving their mark on the concrete.

In this time of such uncertainty, Aziraphale threw the sword to the ground, hands shaking and becoming very afraid of what all of this meant. He managed to untie his bowtie from his neck with his clean hand. He wiped his injured hand on his vest, knowing that his clothes had already taken a beating anyway. He wrapped the bowtie around his hand as best he could to hopefully stop the flow of blood.

Aziraphale didn’t know what to think about all of this. In just a short span of time so much had happened and so much information was thrown at him. Firstly, his sword was made of Hellfire, but he was seemingly immune to it. Second, he could somehow recall the sword by just holding out his hand. And lastly, there were angels in hell and he had killed them. The weight of this had just now set in for him. He had killed two angels. Yes, they were attacking him, and he could argue self-defense, but he _killed_ them; burned them alive by Hellfire. To say that this frightened Aziraphale would be an understatement. This terrified him to his core. The more he thought about all of this, the more he could feel himself slipping into a panic attack. He could feel his head spinning again, emotions threatening to rage their war just as they did before.

But he couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not when Crowley still needed him. He shook his head, hoping to quell the storm that was brewing in his mind.

With a deep breath, he held his hand out again, bringing the weapon back to him and marched onwards. He came here – _hellbent,_ _for lack of a better term_ \- with the full intention of rescuing Crowley by any means necessary, and he’d be damned if he was going to fail at that.

* * *

His journey through Hell continued, leading him down more and more less familiar paths. Even though he was trying his best to be aware of what was around him, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to concentrate. He could feel that just being here in Hell was affecting him. When he was here as Crowley, it was only for a relatively short period of time, so he didn’t experience any negative effects except for maybe a headache. But, he has been here much longer than before, and it was really taking its toll on him.

He made his way around a corner and into another corridor.

He had no time to react when two more angels came up behind him in an ambush, knocking him into the wall and restraining him. Aziraphale tried to fight back, but the combination of his previous battle and his decreasing energy couldn’t overpower these new enemies. One snatched his sword from him while the other one held his hands behind his back and pushed him along harshly down the hallway

The next thing he knew, he was being thrown unceremoniously into what looked like a prison cell. Aziraphale felt himself being shoved, and then he fell onto the hard ground, rolling a bit before stopping on his side. He hit his head on the way down and he groaned in pain.

“A-Angel?” A voice said. Aziraphale barely heard it over the ringing in his ears.

Aziraphale rolled over and looked up at the sound. His vision was blurry, and it took him a moment to figure out what he was seeing. Slowly, his eyes focused back in, “Crowley!” He shouted in joy, standing up and rushing over to the demon’s side, a rush of energy suddenly returning to him. Crowley was laying on the ground, half propped up on one elbow. Aziraphale bent down next to him, pulling him into a sitting position. 

Before Crowley could say anything there was a hand behind his head and in the next moment Aziraphale was kissing him; full on kissing him with what felt like a mixture of long held desperation and so much passion that it was almost suffocating. The action took even the Angel by surprise with how abrupt he was being, but seeing Crowley caused something in him to snap and he couldn’t resist giving into the temptation that he had been refusing to listen to for all those years. It took a moment for the act to even register in Crowley’s head, but after the initial surprise and confusion passed he returned the kiss eagerly, because he would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s back, holding him closer, and they went on like that, letting all those thousands of years of pining for each other melt away. Crowley had imagined multiple ways in which he would end up kissing Aziraphale and of all of them, he never imagined that it would happen when the Angel came to his rescue while he was being held prisoner in Hell. 

Oh. Right. Hell. He had almost forgotten.

“Mmmh, Angel.” Crowley said, trying to pull just far enough away to speak. 

The effort was useless though because Aziraphale pulled him right back in and continued. The kiss eventually receded into something less forceful. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “Oh, Crowley, darling.” He couldn’t keep himself from kissing him between each word.

“Angel.” Crowley tried to interrupt again, but another kiss from Aziraphale graced his lips. And, as much as he would be content with kissing him for the rest of his days, they had other pressing issue at hand. Crowley put his hands on Aziraphales’ shoulders and broke the kiss, pushing him away enough to talk, “Aziraphale!” This finally got his attention. Crowley looked at his eyes; those blue eyes that were always so soft and full of a sense of wonderment and happiness. But now, Crowley saw something different in those eyes, something more somber; darker. “You shouldn’t have come here, Angel, it’s –“

“I love you.”

“Wha – “

“Crowley, I love you.” Aziraphale repeated, his next words came pouring out of him without any forewarning. “I love you with every fiber of my being, I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. I don’t want to keep pretending anymore. I wanted to tell you right after we stopped Armageddon but couldn’t find the words or the right opportunity. When I saw that you had been taken I was shattered. And I realized that I can’t go on without you. I-” Crowley could see the tears welling up in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Oh, Angel.” He responded, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve wanted to say the same thing. I love you. I’ve been in love with you for thousands of years. I love you so much.” They sat like that for the next several minutes, reveling in the simple fact that they finally knew; that they finally told each other exactly how they feel. Even with the threat of their current situation looming of their heads, in this very room, at this very moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were in each other’s arms.

“This was a trap, Aziraphale.” Crowley started again, pulling back to look at his face. He reached up and wiped away the tears that had made their way down his cheek. It was then that he noticed the line of blood that had its way down the side of Aziraphale’s head, staining a portion of his hair red and pooling behind his ear. He took a few moments to look over the Angel. His bowtie was tied around one of his hands, his shirt was torn on one of the sleeves, and his vest was smeared with blood, probably where he had wiped his hand off. He had never seen Aziraphale in such a state of disarray. Alarming concern for his Angel surfaced and he found himself worrying far more about him than he did himself. “Are you okay? You look terrible.” He took Aziraphale’s injured hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb along his knuckles.

“I’ll be okay. It could have been worse.” Aziraphale replied with a small nod, bringing his good hand up to hold Crowley’s face, leaning his forehead on his. “Why did Hell come after you again? I thought they were going to leave you alone? Was I not a convincing enough you to fool them? Was this my fault? Did I - “

“Angel.” Crowley said, cutting Aziraphale off, “It wasn’t Hell. They don’t care.”

“They don’t?” he said, not really as a question as much as it may have sounded like one. “Then who did this?”

“It was Gabriel.”

Aziraphale let out what Crowley could only describe as a growl, “Damn. Of course, it was him.” He couldn’t say that he was surprised that Gabriel was behind all of this. And now it made sense that there were angels in hell.

“He’s got the entirety of Hell on lockdown and has Beelzebub held captive.”

“Well, we can’t let him get away with this.” Aziraphale stated, “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He stood up to the best of his ability and shakily got to his feet. He held his hand out to Crowley who then took the offer and tried to get up. Before he could stand up fully, his legs gave out and he stumbled forwards.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale caught him before he fell and helped him stand, having to support most of his weight. He could tell that something was wrong with the demon. “What’s wrong? What did Gabriel do to you?”

“I don’t know… I – Something… He chanted something.” Crowley tried to explain, his voice starting to really show the distress he was in. “And the next thing I knew, I… I felt weak.”

Aziraphale growled again, growing ever more annoyed and furious. “Heaven never should have let him study demonic magic.” Aziraphale wasn’t well versed in the ins and outs of demonic magic, though he did get curious and read a book or two simply for research purposes. He remembered enough to know that this was most likely a life tap spell. It wasn’t something that was going to kill Crowley, but it wasn’t anything good. If Aziraphale was correct it meant that Gabriel had tapped into Crowley demonic energy and absorbed its power. And Crowley said that Gabriel had Beelzebub, the most powerful of all the demons in Hell, held captive? Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Wait, hold on, they… they _let him_ study demonic magic?” Crowley parroted, his voice going raspier as the exhaustion continued to set in, “What in God’s name… did Heaven think was going to happen?”

“Not only study it, he practiced it. Gabriel has heaven eating out of the palm of his hand. He controls the place. They never dared question him. They’ve all been such idiots…” Aziraphale said with disdain. Crowley took notice that he kept saying “they”. They let Gabriel practice magic. They didn’t question him. They’re all idiots. Aziraphale was refraining from saying we. Crowley would have liked to imagine that this was because Aziraphale didn’t see himself as an idiot; that he didn’t agree with them. But Crowley was beginning to think that the real reason was that Aziraphale didn’t consider himself a part of them anymore; that he wasn’t seeing himself as an Angel anymore.

Aziraphale could feel Crowley getting weaker as the moments passed by. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to carry him out of here, but he surely wasn’t going to leave him behind. “I’ve got an idea; can you turn yourself into your snake form?” The Angel asked.

Crowley only nodded and then, using the little energy he had left, he shifted his physical body into its snake form, black and red scales showing up much duller in color than usual, being more of a dark grey and a muted maroon. He coiled himself around Aziraphale’s body as much as he could, wrapping behind his neck and resting his head on his shoulder.

“There. You just rest up now alright, dear?” Aziraphale said to the snake, gently petting his head. “I’m getting us out of here.” He walked up to the door of the cell, looking out of the small opening. There were two angels standing just a short way down the corridor. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, hoping to miracle the lock off. But the snap did nothing. He tried again, and then tried a third time, to no avail. 

“Sssira, it won’t work… not here.” Snake Crowley said into his ear. “Too much…”

“Damn…” Aziraphale should have seen this coming. He knew that his powers would be heavily suppressed here, but he hadn’t imagined that it would be so bad that his abilities were non-existent. “Okay… I might have another idea.” He took a step back and held his hand out at the door.

“Sssira?” The snake hissed, in as confused of a tone as a snake could manage.

“Something happened earlier with the sword.” Aziraphale said, “let me concentrate.” He returned his focus to the door, willing the sword to come to him. “Come on…” He didn’t know what he was doing, if he was going it correctly, or if it was even going to work, but it was the only shot they had right now. After a moment, to his surprise, he heard something crash into the door with a loud metal clang, and right after that he heard the noise of the lock dropping to the floor. “Oh… Oh! It worked!” All it took was a shove to the door and they were free from their cell. Aziraphale quickly picked up the weapon, preparing for the two guards to come for them, but as he turned his head, they were gone.

“You can sssummon it?”

“I guess? I’m just as confused as you are, dear. I was never actually informed on what the sword was capable of.”

Aziraphale continued down the corridor, still on edge, keeping his eye out for any other angel guards that could be around the corner. As he got closer to the spot where the two guards previously stood, he noticed more piles of ash on the ground. “Huh… two birds, one stone I suppose.” He remarked, glancing at the sword.

“Thossse weren’t demonsss?”

“No. They were angels.” Aziraphale shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around the subject. “Gabriel must have rallied up supporters for himself. I ran into two of his cohorts earlier and thought they were demons in disguise until the sword turned them to ash.” 

“Sssira, did you…?” The snake turned to stare at him. 

Aziraphale didn’t reply for a good few seconds, “Well… it’s not like they were _good_ angels.”

* * *

They continued their way through Hell's depths. Crowley occasionally directed the Angel down certain paths and towards shortcuts that he knew about. They didn’t know exactly where they were even trying to get to, but Crowley had a feeling that Gabriel was probably in Beelzebub’s quarters.

“Hold on… Hold on. I – I just. I need a minute.” Aziraphale said, ducking into a dead-end hallway and leaning against the wall. He slowly sank down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. The snake uncoiled himself from around Aziraphale and sat next to him. The next moment snake Crowley shifted back to his regular form. While Crowley’s energy was ever so slowly returning to him, Aziraphales’ was diminishing. Not only was he dealing with being attacked by angels but being in Hell alone was draining him far faster than he anticipated. He found himself having difficulty breathing and catching his breath, which was silly considering that their corporeal forms didn’t even need to breathe to stay alive. He took in a few shaky deep breaths, only having minimal success in reliving his exhaustion.

Crowley was still weak from whatever it was that Gabriel did to him, but that didn’t stop him from trying to comfort Aziraphale. He reached over and took the Angel’s hand in his own.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last here, Crowley.” Aziraphale said, leaning his head back against the wall and letting his eyelids fall shut.

Crowley moved closer to his Angel, bringing their joined hands up and kissing Aziraphales’. “If anyone can make it through Hell, it’s you, Angel.”

A companionable silence came over the scene. Crowley sat there staring at Aziraphale while he let him rest. Eventually Aziraphale’s breathing evened out, though it was still far from normal. 

“I know you came here to rescue me.” Crowley started again, Aziraphale turned his head to look at him. “But, we’re walking into something much bigger.”

“Worse than Armageddon…”

“And… I think we both know that there’s only one way that we can win.” Crowley continued. Even though he didn’t outwardly state what that only winning tactic was, the Angel seemed to understand.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, but then nodded his head in agreement. “I don’t see any other solution.” From the moment that he found out that Gabriel was behind the kidnapping and everything that was happening in hell, this exact thought kept coming up in the back of him mind.

They had to kill Gabriel. 

It made sense in his head; the sword being made of Hellfire - the only weapon against angels - and the culmination of all the events that lead to him being here.

“Are you prepared for that?”

“It’s not something you can really prepare for, is it?” But as much sense as it made, would he even be able to do it? If anyone had asked him this question years before, he would have said that he could never condone violence, and that he preferred to solve problems in a more peaceful manner. In the back of his mind, he had always questioned the ways that Heaven worked, how they treated each other, humanity and demons especially, yet he never spoke anything of it, thinking that obviously Heaven had to be the good guys. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how brainwashed Heaven had him. He had followed orders from Heaven and did as he was told for so long that now that he was free from their grasp, he was done with all of it. Sure, angels were meant to being beings of love and peace, but Aziraphale had long since resigned the argument of morality. He knew that this was a necessary evil. So, it wasn’t a question of whether he could bring himself to make the final attack, but more a question of if he was physically capable of getting to that point in the first place. 

“No. But I’ll be right there with you.” Crowley reassured him.

“Gabriel is an Archangel,” Aziraphale started again, “that has a strong connection to demonic forces that he can use to his own advantage. If he’s captured Beelzebub – “

Crowley finished that sentence for him. “Then he’s got the strongest powers in all of Hell at his disposal.”

“How are we going to stand up against that?”

“You have the sword.” Crowley reminded him.

Aziraphale picked the sword up from where it was sitting on the ground next to him. “I still don’t fully understand it.” He said, running his fingers across the blade. There was something both terrifying and yet absolutely, infuriatingly intriguing about the way the flames moved around his hand. There was a phrase that humans liked to recite; _If you play with fire, you’re going to get burned._ He never understood why someone would even want to mess around with an element as destructive and dangerous as fire, but there was something so strangely fascinating about how the embers danced over his skin. When they absorbed into his hand the warmth they left was somehow comforting. “It’s been made of hellfire this whole time, but it does nothing to me… That shouldn’t even be possible.”

“The Almighty gave you that sword. Maybe this was all just another part of her plan.”

“This plan of hers seems to just get more and more convoluted as time goes on. Getting kind of annoying if you ask me.” Aziraphale remarked with an eye roll, which earned a chuckle from the demon. “I do have to admit though -” Residual curiosity seemed to spark in that moment. Aziraphale lifted the sword up and tossed it down the hallway. Before the weapon fell and hit the ground, he held his hand out and watched it almost freeze midair before it came right back to him. “That is pretty extraordinary.”

“And I will say, there’s something remarkable about watching you do that.” Crowley said. “Like you’re some sort of superhero.” He smiled at the Angel, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

“And what would that make you?” Aziraphale replied, a grin forming on his face. “My faithful sidekick?”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “Ah…. Partner in crime?”

“Huh, I quite like the sound of that.” Aziraphale smiled even more.

They both knew that they were stalling, but neither wanted to say anything.

Aziraphale was the one who spoke up first. “How do we know that the sword will even work on Gabriel?”

“He may be channeling demonic energy, but he’s still an Archangel.” Crowley offered. “It’d be like you channeling me. You’d still be an Angel, just with a few surprises thrown in.” 

A silence rose between the two of them for all of about ten seconds. Crowley turned his gaze back to Aziraphale. His eyes went a little wider at his realization as if the lightbulb above his head had just gone on.

“No.” Aziraphale said sternly, leaning close to Crowley and knowing just what that look in his eye meant. “Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

“But -”

“No!” Aziraphale insisted, “You’re still drained from what Gabriel did to you. I’m not going to make that any worse than it already is.”

“Yes, but my energy will slowly keep returning as long as we’re here. Yours, on the other hand, is only getting worse. Angels were never meant to spend this long in Hell.” Crowley reasoned, “If Gabriel has Beelzebub’s power than this will help even the playing field. And it’s not like you’d be taking all of it; just enough to get us through this.”

Aziraphale sighed, knowing that Crowley was right. “I don’t know how we would even accomplish it though. I don’t actively practice demonic spells like Gabriel does.”

“Maybe we don’t need a spell.” Crowley suggested. He held out his hand for Aziraphale to take. “Just like the body swap, except instead of bodies, we’re trading energy.”

“Will that work?”

“Only one way to find out.”

With another sigh, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. When they did this with the body swap, it was a simple matter of letting their corporeal forms swap appearances. But this? This was something else. Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing, nor what would happen, and the feeling that occurred during this exchange of power was strange to them. It wasn’t painful, but something about it seemed so unnatural that they couldn’t find the words to even describe what it felt like. They felt power leave them, and an opposite power make its way through their veins, feeling both warm and cold at the same time.

“That felt… weird.” Aziraphale said, trying but failing to find a better word to describe what just happened. “But… I do feel better. Less exhausted.”

“I’d say it worked.” Crowley nodded. “Your eyes have turned green.” Aziraphale’s normally deep blue eyes had shifted to a color more closely described as Turquoise. 

Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley’s eyes, “So have yours.” His had turned from their bright yellow to more of a Chartreuse. [1] “They even look… less snake like.” They hadn’t fully changed; there was still serpent in them, they were just less obvious. The slit pupils were more like diamonds.

Crowley couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You know, this is probably the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.” Neither of them knew if doing this would have lasting side effects or otherwise come back to bite them in the ass later down the line. An Angel and a demon channeling each other’s power? It was unheard of. It had never been attempted or even thought of before. 

Aziraphale laughed along with him, leaning over and letting his head rest on Crowley’s shoulder. “Dumber than you walking on consecrated grounds.”

Crowley laid his head on top of Aziraphale’s' while also wrapping his arm around him. “Dumber than you going to France during the revolution dressed as an aristocrat.”

“Dumber than us watching over the wrong child for 11 years.”

“Dumber than us losing the Anti-Christ.”

“Dumber than us being idiots in love for 6000 years but never realizing it.”

The two of them sat there recounting all of the incredibly stupid decisions they each had made over the years, not wanting to get up and ruin the moment they were having. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale whispered, lifting his head up from the demon’s shoulder and turning to look at him. “There’s one more thing I need to say.” He had already said a lot; so much more than he had ever said to Crowley before, but there was one more thing that he had to ask. He had to ask and know the answer before they went into what could easily be their very last fight. 

“Anything, Angel.”

“If we get out of this – “

“When. When we get out of this.” Crowley corrected. He was adamant that they were going to get out of here; get out and finally get to live their lives in peace with each other.

“When we get out of here…” Aziraphale rephrased, pausing for a moment and just gazing into Crowley’s eyes and getting hopelessly lost in them. He smiled warmly at the demon. “Will you marry me?”

The question hit Crowley like a truck, but he wasn’t so much as caught off guard as vaguely jealous that he wasn’t the one who got to ask it first. “Now who’s the one who’s going too fast.” He jokingly said as he gently brought his hand up, resting it on the back of Aziraphale’s head and pulling him in for a kiss. This kiss was much gentler than their previous one, just a brief press of lips and rub of noses. Simple, but so meaningful; only lasting but a few seconds but carrying so much emotion and love that anyone who could have possibly seen them in this moment would have surely felt nauseated by how sickeningly sweet they were being. “Yes, Angel. Yes. I’ve waited thousands of years to say yes to you.” Crowley pulled back from Aziraphale just enough to look at him. They sat there, hand in hand. “A proposal in Hell.” The demon chuckled, realizing now just how utterly ridiculous it was, but also how absolutely fitting it was for the both of them. “Oh, Aziraphale, leave it to you to make the worst situation into something disgustingly romantic.”

Aziraphale had to agree that this was probably the least suitable way that he could have asked Crowley to marry him, but somehow it felt as if it was right. They’re relationship had always been a bit ridiculous on its own, so this matched their style nicely. “I’d be disappointed if you expected anything less from me.”

If they could have chosen to stay in this feeling of bliss forever, they easily would have. It was just like them to get so wrapped up in each other that they would forget about what was going on around them. They knew however that despite all that had just transpired, they still had a large threat looming over them that needed to be taken care of. 

“Let’s go get this bastard.”

“You still need to conserve your energy, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crowley replied, shifting himself back to his snake form again, and curling himself around the Angel. Aziraphale noticed that the color of his scales had changed just like his eyes did. The dark grey scales were now a dark brown and the muted red scales were more orange. 

Aziraphale stood up, and nearly immediately another three angels approached their hiding space. They made their way down the hallway, stopping and blocking it off so that the two renegades couldn’t escape again.

“Throw your sssword at them.” The snake on his shoulder hissed in his ear.

“No. I have an idea.” Aziraphale whispered back. He then took a step towards the angels in front of him. “Look, we know Gabriel is here. And if he really wants us dead then I assume he wants to be the one to finish us off, rather than you lot doing his dirty work. Lead us to Gabriel, and we will come peacefully.” As he spoke, he raised his hands up in front of him in a surrender gesture.

The angels said nothing, but one of them pointed to the sword still in Aziraphale’s hand and then at the ground. Aziraphale took the hint and bent down to lay the sword on the ground. Standing back up, he then used his foot and slid the weapon towards the angels. They didn’t make any attempt to pick up the sword, letting it slide through their legs and come to a stop behind them.

A moment passed. The three angels then suddenly conjured their own weapons to their hands and made their way closer.

“Oh, okay we’re doing this the hard way then.” Aziraphale jumped into action, holding out his hand and calling the sword back. The sword made its way through the air, and on its path of return it passed right through the back of the angel in the middle, not giving them any chance to see it coming. The other two froze, watching in horror as their friend was reduced to ashes. They turned their attention to Aziraphale who was standing there, sword in his hands, glaring at them with a look of intimidation. They could have sworn they saw his eyes shift every so slightly, looking almost serpentine.

“I’d put those away if I were you.” Aziraphale said to the remaining angels, nodding his head at their weapons. The angels looked at each other, but then magicked their weapons away. “Good. Now, I’ll say again,” He lowered his sword slightly, but kept it at the ready. “Take us to Gabriel and everything will be peaceful for you, or you could end up just like your friend there. You’re choice, really.”

The angels made their decision, wasting no time and turning back down the hallway.

“Thought so.” Aziraphale smirked, following them.

The snake on his shoulder was quiet throughout the whole exchange but turned now and spoke up. “Didn’t think you had it in you Sssira.” Crowley knew that Aziraphale wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows and knew that he definitely had a number of devious tendencies but seeing this side of him was something new. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t find it strangely attractive.

“You’re rubbing off on me, darling.”

* * *

The two angels led Aziraphale through the corridors of Hell, occasionally looking back at him but then returning their attention forward when they remembered just what that sword did to their friend. It didn’t take long for them to come to their destination. The angels stopped outside of an archway, both gesturing for Aziraphale to go though. He went under the archway and walked into what looked like an old gladiatorial style arena.

Hell had previously used arenas like these in initiation events; new demons having to prove their worth and demonstrate their abilities in tests of strength and power. The arenas were rarely used nowadays though because Hell had found better options to assess the demon’s worthiness.

Aziraphale walked further into the arena, making his way to the center. He looked around and spotted Gabriel standing in the audience area of the arena.

“Aziraphale, how nice to see you here.” Gabriel said. He made his way down a few of the steps and around the edge of the arena wall.

“Yeah, really can’t say the same for you.” Aziraphale called. “What are you even doing, Gabriel? What is your plan here?”

“Well isn’t it obvious? You two ruined Armageddon, Heaven didn’t get to have their war, and both sides became livid. Hell was planning an uprising - a revolution, if you will - and Heaven had to stop them. But my fellow Archangels didn’t see things quite the same way I did, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Because the only way to win the war with Hell once and for all is to eliminate it at the source.” As he spoke, Gabriel walked around the arena wall and eventually came to the balcony. He stopped then and waved one of his hands. Behind him, an energy bubble floated forward holding an unconscious Beelzebub inside of it. “Look at me now, I’m one of the most powerful -”

“A disgrace is what you are.” Aziraphale remarked, interrupting Gabriel mid-sentence, at least partially simply to anger him.

“Oh, harsh words coming from someone who’s constantly lied to the Almighty for thousands of years.” Gabriel answered in mock offense.

“What you’re doing is ridiculous.”

“What I’m doing is revolutionary!” Gabriel continued. “Heaven and Hell have been at odds with either other since the dawn of time. This fight has been a constant back and forth show of power that has never made any progress for either side. But then, those humans that you seem to love so much came up with a neat little saying – ‘ _Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer.’ –_ and I realized exactly what was needed to finish the struggle. Angelic power verses Demonic power will only ever end in a tie. It’s only when you combine both sources of power that you gain the ability to take the upper hand.”

“You are playing with forces that you don’t even understand!”

“Oh, but I do!” Gabriel shouted back. “All my studies in Demonic magic have brought me right here, right now, right where I am standing. It’s as if it was all a part of the plan all along.”

“To Hell with the plan.” Aziraphale raised his voice even more, “I don’t need a plan to tell me that we were meant to stop you.”

“You think you have a chance against me?” Gabriel scuffed, “Ha! It’s funny you have so much confidence in yourself, Aziraphale. You want to fight? Fine, you’ve got one” With a snap of his fingers he summoned himself a weapon, his choice being a tall, golden trident. “I’ll even make it easier on you. You get one request before I kick your ass.”

Aziraphale was skeptical but took full advantage of this opportunity. “Let them go.” he said, nodding his head in the direction of Beelzebub. Gabriel gave him a look, and even the snake demon curled around his shoulders turned his head to look at him. “I know you’ve already drained them of their power. I’ll play your game but Let. Beelzebub. Go.”

Gabriel laughed, “Oh, Aziraphale. Always the nice one. You know what they always say: _Nice guys always finish last._ ” He waved a hand and the bubble that was holding Beelzebub disappeared releasing the lord of hell from its hold. They fell to the ground, still unconscious. A few other demons cautiously came to their aid, picking them up and moving out of Gabriel’s range. Gabriel stepped up onto the guard wall of the balcony and jumped down to the floor of the arena, the trident in his hand hitting the ground with a loud metallic clang and his wings unfurling from his back in a flash of light. They were mostly the standard white as all angels possessed but had golden adornments on the tip of each feather. At the base of each wing, Aziraphale noticed lines of scarlet red branching and creeping their way through the feathers, like veins that were slowly taking over; a visual representation of Beelzebub’s power flowing through Gabriel. “It’s going to be such a pleasure to kill the both of you.”

And so, the fight commenced.

Gabriel wasted no time and was relentless from the very start. He was adept in using the trident to all of its advantages in close range and at long range he used it to concentrate his power and shoot out projectiles at Aziraphale. Gabriel had gained a number of abilities by tapping and stealing Beelzebub’s power, and he wasn’t shy in using them. Both angels and demons had the ability to teleport themselves, but it was only used rarely because of the amount of energy it took to perform. Gabriel was able to teleport himself around the arena at speeds that didn’t even seem possible. It made Aziraphale wonder just how many demons he had drained power from, or if he also tapped into the power of other angels.

Aziraphale couldn’t keep up with Gabriel, causing the Archangel to land quite a number of attacks on him, much to his dismay. Adding to his already existing injuries, Aziraphale sustained multiple blows to the head, several more cuts and an almost stab wound which he only nearly evaded because Crowley saw Gabriel coming from behind. Most of these injuries came from Aziraphale trying to protect Crowley, moving just enough to take the hit so that the demon was out of the weapons path. In all his efforts to shield him, Crowley ended up with a number of his own injuries, consisting of multiple burns from the Tridents projectiles.

The fight was not entirely one sided though, as much as it may have looked. Aziraphale did manage to hit Gabriel.

Aziraphale took a chance and repeated the tactic that he had tried earlier, throwing the sword and, just as it was behind Gabriel, recalled it back to him. The sword only managed to graze the side of Gabriel’s head, leaving a small cut.

“Oh, that’s a new one.” Gabriel laughed, not even flinching at the attack. A moment later, the cut healed itself, disappearing as if nothing even happened.

“No…” Aziraphale said to himself, realizing that the Hellfire sword that he was depending on to win this fight didn’t even leave a scratch on Gabriel.

As the fight continued, Gabriel made a motion with his hands and all around the arena visual clones of him appeared, running towards Aziraphale. The Angel held his own fending off the doppelgangers off – With one swing of his sword, the fakes fizzled out of existence - but he’d now lost sight of which one was the real Gabriel, which left him vulnerable to attack.

“Sssquint your eysss.” Crowley told Aziraphale. 

He followed the instruction while taking out more of the clones. His vision shifted, and he now could see an entirely new spectrum of light, sensing heat through infrared radiation. Of course. How did he forget that snakes could sense heat? The clones didn’t possess any heat signatures, so this allowed him to locate the real Gabriel and catch him by surprise.

Or so he thought.

Just as Aziraphale was about to land an attack on Gabriel, the Archangel brought up the trident and blocked his sword. In one swift motion, Gabriel shoved Aziraphale away, sending him flying across the arena and falling to the ground. In the same moment, Crowley lost his hold on the Angel and Aziraphale lost hold on his sword, sending both the snake and the sword tumbling in other directions. Teleporting himself again, Gabriel grabbed the sword from the ground, and then made his way over to Aziraphale, pinning him down with his foot, the tip of the sword sitting right at his neck. Even though Aziraphale knew that the fire of the sword couldn’t actually hurt him, the feeling of the blade at throat was enough to instill a sense of panic. 

“Look at you, Aziraphale.” Gabriel said, pressing the sword ever so slightly further against Aziraphale’s skin, “You could have been such a great ally in Heaven’s fight, but you had to throw it all away by being too soft, going native, willingly consorting with an insufferable demon. Oh, and what’s that I see in your eyes?" Gabriel bent down closer to Aziraphale, staring dead on at his eyes, watching them shift back and forth from being normal and being vaguely serpentine. Aziraphale saw Gabriel’s eyes slowly start turning red. "Rather hypocritical of you to judge me for practicing demonic magic when here you are channeling demon energy yourself!”

Gabriel was so preoccupied with insulting and berating Aziraphale that he didn’t notice the snake demon stealthily slither up behind him and go for the strike. Crowley sank his fangs into Gabriel’s leg, causing the Archangel to let out a gasp of pain and stumble backwards, dropping to his knees. This only lasted for a few moments, but it was enough time for Aziraphale to get back to his feet and quickly recall the sword to his hand.

Gabriel stood back up, shaking the snake off his leg. He tried to step on and kick Crowley, but the demon quickly maneuvered his way back to Aziraphale, wrapping himself around him again.

“He’sss weakened.” Crowley hissed in Aziraphale’s ear. It was then that Aziraphale noticed that Gabriel had a slight limp in the leg that Crowley had bitten. The demons’ snake form wasn’t just for looks; it possessed an aggressive neurotoxic venom that rivaled Taipans and Black Mambas in deadliness. This venom was now making its way through Gabriel’s body and even though it surely wouldn’t be able to kill him, this made his self-healing abilities focus solely on battling the venom.

Gabriel seemed unconcerned by this, perhaps not knowing exactly what it meant. “Come on, Aziraphale,” He said, taking a step towards him, “we’re the same, you and I -”

“Don’t you dare say that we are the same!” Aziraphale shouted, refusing to be seen as anything close to an equal to Gabriel.

“No, I suppose you’ve chosen your side a long time ago. Choosing a demon, a traitor, over your fellow angels!”

“Don’t think for a second that I am one of you! I was never one of you!”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, “Perhaps I’ve been too easy on you.” A devilish grin formed on his face as he raised one of his hands. “Maybe I should hurt you where it matters the most.” A flick on his wrist and suddenly Crowley was lifted from Aziraphale’s shoulders and being suspended in the same sort of energy bubble that previously held Beelzebub.

“No! Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled. He could only watch helplessly as Gabriel did another motion and began draining energy from Crowley, forcing him out of his snake form and back to his normal corporation. The demon let out a cry of pain, the feeling of being stripped of his power being ten times worse than the last time. Gabriel finished absorbing Crowley's power, and was already readying another attack.

Aziraphale knew that he had to do something. Anything. Anything at all.

_‘Do Something!’_

Echos of his past words came to him.

That was it.

Focusing everything he had, he abandoned the sword and threw his hands to the air, hoping for a miracle, weather it being demonic or angelic he didn’t care.

In the next moment he saw everything around him come to a crawl. He hadn’t stopped time completely but did manage to slow it down. He didn’t know how long it was going to last so he didn’t waste it. He made a run for Crowley, jumping and grabbing hold of him. Time kicked back into full speed.

And all at once, so many things happened: He and Crowley fell to the ground, Gabriel’s attack missed, he heard the Archangel growl in disgust, and saw him rise the trident, beginning to charge another blast from it.

Aziraphale’s wings materialized from his shoulders, looking much different now than ever before. Instead of the pure white that they usually were, they were grey with black stripes, and subtle white tips at the end of each feather, their appearance very reminiscent of the wings of the great Harpy Eagle, eye-catching and graceful but also intimidating and powerful.

 _The first thought here may be to assume that the color change was due to Aziraphale and Crowley channeling each other’s power. This reason would be wrong. If their power was represented as blobs of oil paint on an artist’s pallet, Aziraphale’s power would be Titanium White and Crowley’s power would be Midnight Black. Mixing these colors together gets you a grey, but even in the most thorough mixing process, some remnants of the original black and white will remain, leaving their marks in the new_ _shade. This was true of what happened to Aziraphale’s wings in the visual sense, but the underlying reason they made this change was not because of a sharing of power, but for something else entirely._

Aziraphale quickly spun them, his wings curling around Crowley protectively, shielding him from Gabriel’s attack. The blast from the trident collided with Aziraphale’s back and left him with a large burn.

Before he could even scream, Gabriel returned to his teleportation tactics, grabbing Aziraphale by his shirt and tossing him across the arena and into the wall. Aziraphale could barely move, getting to his knees and trying to crawl away, but failing, the pain in his back and everything else proving to be too much for him to handle. He noticed Crowley across the arena trying to get up and having difficulty as well but managing to get to his knees. Aziraphale panted and gasped for air, feeling like he was suffocating. Gabriel set out on a rampage, continually picking up and throwing Aziraphale around like a rag doll. Every time he hit a surface, he felt all the pain he was already feeling intensify.

Gabriel grabbed Aziraphale again, this time taking hold of him and slamming him against the wall. “Don’t you see?! There was never any way you could defeat me!” Gabriel’s eyes had now shifted to being fully red, almost looking like they were glowing.

“I didn’t have to defeat you,” Aziraphale said, his voice barely recognizable under the hoarseness and intense gasps for air. “I just had to distract you.”

Gabriel paid this no mind, simply laughing in Aziraphale’s face, shoving him even harder against the wall and growling. “Got any last words, Aziraphale?”

The ragged, battle torn Angel only shook his head. A smirk forming on his face a moment later. “He does.”

Behind Gabriel, Crowley rose to his feet, sword in hand, his wings sprouting out from his shoulders, their coloration and markings mirroring the Harpy Eagle just like Aziraphales’.

_Their wings had changed because of our heroes becoming something new, neither fully angel nor demon nor human incarnate, but something balanced precariously yet perfectly in between._

“Shut up and die already.” Crowley snarled.

And with one final slash, Hellish flames enveloped the archangel before them. They watched as he was rapidly and painfully reduced to nothing but a scattered pile of ash.

It took them a full minute or so to realize that it was over. They won.

Adrenaline wearing off and sudden exhaustion setting in, Crowley collapsed into Aziraphale, who then collapsed to the ground. Both of them laid there together, tired and in so much pain, but only feeling thankful that they were in each other’s arms. If they had to choose any way to die, they were just glad that they were doing it together. Aziraphale held Crowley as tight as he could, and Crowley clinged to whatever part of Aziraphale he could reach. They both closed their eyes, not having enough energy to keep them open. They didn’t know how long they laid there; time was but an illusion for them at this moment. It could have been five minutes, or an hour, or even a whole day, neither of them knew.

Then all of a sudden, the pain was gone.

Vanished, as if it never existed. They both felt a surge of warm energy inside of them and then they were both standing, without remembering getting up. They noticed that all of their injuries were gone; the cuts, the burns, all the other wound, everything.

“Hello, Aziraphale, Crowley.” A voice said. They looked around and eventually spotted Archangel Michael in the arena balcony.

“Michael?” Aziraphale said.

“Don’t worry, I’m not with Gabriel.” Michael reassured both of them. “I’m here to thank you. I’ve healed you both up, now come along, we have much to discuss.”

* * *

The aftermath of Gabriel’s destruction slowly began fixing itself over time. Beelzebub’s power returned to them steadily and they made sure the demons that Gabriel has siphoned energy from were treated and taken care of. As much as Hell was rather ruthless in its treatment of demons, none of them deserved to be victim of Gabriel’s sick twisted plan.

Michael explained that Gabriel had been going rogue for quite some time, going mad and drunk with power, and that Heaven had lost control of him. Heaven had been under his rule for so long that now that he was gone, every angel let out a collective sigh of relief.

With Gabriel out of the picture, it was Michael that took the step up in power to replace him. With this came multiple new arrangements between Heaven and Hell, some of which had never been imagined before. They agreed to a truce of sorts; a mutual stance that angels and demons would stop fighting each other. They didn’t have to work together or even be friends, but only strive to exist side by side; for it was always true that demons were no different than angels. In their simplest form, they were two sides of the same coin. Michael and Beelzebub began routinely meeting up on earth - on neutral ground - acting as the spokesperson for Heaven and Hell, to discuss the ongoings of all the other demons and angels. Though neither of them would admit it to anyone, a sort of friendship blossomed between the two of them. The occult and the ethereal were in somewhat of a balance for the first time since their creation.

Michael and Beelzebub came to an agreement that they would leave Crowley and Aziraphale alone for good. Both of them were praised for their efforts and given new titles as representatives of humanity. They would both be welcomed back in their respective realms at any time, but are under no obligations, and under nobody’s’ control. They could finally, _finally_ , live their lives as they pleased on earth.

For Crowley and Aziraphale everything was better than ever before. They were together, they were free of the tethers that used to keep them apart, and they were able to make up for those six thousand years they waited. They fully intended to enjoy every last moment of it. The simplest things were all the more exciting for them with this new-found relationship. Walking together in the park felt so much more intimate now that they would walk hand in hand or one of them would drape their arm over the others shoulders. Now that they were allowed to be openly in love, they were the overly affectionate couple that always seemed to find any opportunity to give each other a kiss. They got to experience so many of the things that they had seen humans enjoy: kissing in the rain, kissing in the snow, kissing under the stars, cuddling in front of a warm fire - Aziraphale always suspected that Crowley would be the cuddling type - Waking up in the morning next to the one they loved, good night kisses, good morning kisses, soft ones, passionate ones, gentle ones, aggressive ones, and everything in between.

Aziraphale’s proposal in Hell didn’t go forgotten. They took their time. Neither of them knew anything about weddings or what planning went into them, so they knew they were going to need help eventually. They didn’t rush it because there was no need. It didn’t matter if they married tomorrow, next year or even ten years down the line. All that mattered was that they were starting a new chapter of their lives.

And besides,

They had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] I've added exactly one footnote here to say that Chartreuse is a bright green and I will personally fight anyone who thinks it's anything close to red, Mandela effect be damned.
> 
> A lot of random headcanons made it into this fic and It is entirely self indulgent. I blame some of this on the Gay Omens Discord. We stan a BAMF Aziraphale going off the chain to protect his Crowley.
> 
> Scream at me in the comments, I'll probably scream back.
> 
> Random trivia 1:  
> Originally in the early stages of this fic, I was going to have Beelzebub be the one to kill Gabriel. That was when I was at the point when I /almost/ wanted to ship them, and it was going to be this whole big emotional thing, but I quickly decided that Beelzebub deserved better. Beelzebub/Micheal is the REAL Power couple, and you can fight me on it.


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